The Face Between Us
by Chrissy Almasy
Summary: Kate has secretly been in love with her boss for ages. But when she accidentally finds out about Gibbs' best-guarded secret, she realises that she might never even stand a chance. Kibbs-ish. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Don't own them, not making money writing about them, so don't sue, okay? NCIS belongs to CBS, the title loosely based on the lyrics of a song by Robbie Williams (yeah, I know. But I stuck and wouldn't go away). Not beta-ed, so all errors and typo's are my own responsibility.

Kibbs-ish one-shot, set between 'SWAK' and 'Twilight'.

Enjoy!

**The Face Between Us **

* * *

"Something's happened," she finally said through gnashing teeth.

"You sure? Didn't he just take a detour for coffee?"

"A two hour detour, McGee? I don't think so!"

Kate felt terribly uneasy. It was totally unlike Gibbs to be late at the office without calling in to tell at least _someone_ why. And the fact she'd been trying his cell phone without luck for the last two hours wasn't much help either. She'd left him at least half a dozen voicemails and four text messages, but chances were he wouldn't know how to open them. Provided that he'd receive them in the first place: he had his cell phone turned off.

Not sure what to think of the situation, she stared at the desk across of her. But the empty chair instantly reminded her that for once her partner didn't have an answer either. On account of him being on sick leave to recover from pneumonic plague…

The next best option was Abby. Only the Goth girl had taken a day off, apparently planned weeks in advance to sleep off the expected effects of some serious partying. So she wasn't going to be of any help, either.

"Ducky heard anything from him?" she asked out loud.

McGee shook his head. "Asked him 10 minutes ago. Not a word."

Kate leaned heavily on her desk and rubbed her temples. 'I'm not giving in' had been her silent mantra for the last 20 minutes or so. She was fervently denying feeling any concern about her boss' disappearing act. She did _not_ worry about him. It was just that he had an important meeting scheduled in MTAC and if he didn't show up, she – being the most senior agent present – would have to explain to Director Morrow why he wasn't there. And worse, why she had no idea where he was or why he was missing.

Gibbs was missing…

Oh, to hell with it! She _was_ worried. Worried sick! Although she'd die of embarrassment before telling anyone.

"Forget it, McGee," she said decisively. "I'm going down to his place and find out what's keeping him."

"Maybe he just fell asleep under his boat again and overslept," McGee offered as she grabbed her purse and her coat.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "In that case, I'll be sure to provide a wake-up call!"

The drive down to Gibbs' house was not the easiest feat in the late morning traffic. It took her nearly thirty agonising minutes before she pulled up into his drive way and parked her car next to Gibbs'. That meant he was still at the house, or at least hadn't left voluntarily.

Half a dozen scenarios ran circles in her head, getting increasing dramatic as she paced to the front door and turned the knob. The door was open. It took her two full seconds to remember that that didn't mean very much because Gibbs' front door was _always_ open. Anyone could've gotten in…

That thought didn't improve the various scenarios.

Her instinct as an agent made her pull out her gun as she prowled the hallway and the living room. Not a living soul in sight. Not a _dead_ soul, either, fortunately. And the place didn't look like there had been a struggle of any kind, so that eliminated at least some of the more violent possibilities.

But then she noticed a sound. It sounded like people talking, fast and a bit distant. She froze on the spot and listened carefully where the sounds came from. Edging closer to the basement door, the voices grew stronger. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but it did make her fingers tighten around her gun. Carefully she inched the door open.

"… _and weather forecasts are not exactly favourable. Heavy rain is expected later this week, but more on that after these messages."_

She let out a sigh of relief. The television. No actual people, just the weatherman doing his pre-news-flash announcements. That discovery lowered her hackles, but not her gun. Not until she was absolutely certain nothing fishy was going on here. Stepping through the door, she surveyed the basement. No movement. No people lurking in corners. Just a boat frame and…

"_GIBBS!_"

Kate all but flew down the stairs the instant she noticed the prone form lying face down under the wooden frame. She hastily tucked her weapon away before worming herself past the wooden ribs to get to him. Between repeating her new 'don't panic' mantra and two failed attempts to navigate the frame without hurting herself, she noticed his torso moving. At least he was breathing, even if he was apparently unconscious.

"Gibbs?" she tried again as she crouched beside him in the narrow space. "Gibbs? Can you hear me?"

No response. Her training overtaking emotion by a fraction, she remembered to check for any obvious signs of injury before gently shaking him by the shoulder. When he still didn't respond in any way, however, panic outran reason by miles and she turned him on his back as quickly as she could. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the weight of his uncooperative body hardly hampered her.

"Gibbs?!" she tried again, more urgently.

This time she was rewarded by a soft groan and a frown, but nothing more. Not taking that for an answer, she tapped his cheek. And instantly realised the cause of this unusual situation.

"Damn it, Gibbs," Kate growled under the breath. "You said you never got ill!"

The touch did wake him, more or less. His eyes opened halfway. She could tell he saw there was someone there, but he blinked a few times, as if he didn't recognise her. And maybe he didn't.

"Sh..Shannon…?"

What the… "No, it's me, Kate."

It hurt her feelings more than she'd consciously admit when he physically turned away from her at hearing her name. "Gibbs? Come on, wake up!" She tapped his face again, a little harder than might have been necessary. But it was effective. He turned back and looked at her, obviously still dazed but a lot clearer than before.

"Kate…?" He sounded so surprised it made her wonder how far gone he'd been at his first guess. But she couldn't manage to stay angry with him, not when he looked as disorientated as a puppy in a pound.

"You awake now?" she replied, trying to hide her personal anxiety over him under a decent amount of professionalism.

His response was yet again a silent one, as he put all his effort into working himself up and getting out from under the frame. She crawled out after him, ready to support him if he let her. Which, of course, he wouldn't. But the way he let his full weight rest on the ribs when he managed to struggle to his feet told her this was more serious than he was letting on.

"Must've fallen asleep…" he muttered through clenched teeth, head hanging down. "What time is it?"

"Time to sleep some more. In a proper bed."

He tilted his head just enough to look at her. If it was intended as one of his glares, it failed miserably. "I've got a meeting in MTAC this morning," he added after some thought.

Kate smirked but didn't give in. "No, Gibbs. What you've got is a fever. And the only place you should be right now is your bed." She gently took his arm. "Can you walk?"

She had expected some kind of objection, a comment on how marines go on no matter what. But instead he let her lead him out the basement and up the stairs. At first he had insisted on walking himself, but even before they reached the first flight of stairs, she had put his arm around her neck. He said nothing, but feeling the pressure on her shoulders, she knew he was grateful for her support.

By the time they had reached the bedroom, Gibbs was only semi-conscious and ready to keel over. That presented a multitude of practical problems that lined up in Kate's mind, with his dusty shirt and jeans in pole position. Her catholic upbringing triggered an unintentional blush at the thought of the possible solutions to that issue.

The decision was taken out of her hands, though, when he simply let himself fall on the bed, clearly not giving a damn about being dressed or not. He just clutched the pillow and pressed it against his face.

"Headache?" she asked softly.

He nodded, although the pained look was a better indication.

"Do you have any painkillers I can get you?"

"'s some aspirin," he groaned. "Drawer… in t'basement…"

"Okay, just lie still. I'll go get it."

She sighed. It was so strange to see her tough ex-marine boss so vulnerable. He'd probably get mad if he knew how much she pitied him right now, but that just intensified her feelings. Anyone with half a brain could tell he hid a lot of pain beneath all those layers of bastard. _Why can't there be a painkiller for heartache, _she mused as she ran down the stairs to the ground floor, and rounded the corner to the basement door.

Climbing down the rough wooden stairs to the basement for the second time that day, she suddenly remembered that there was someone waiting for news from her. She took her cell phone out and called McGee on speed dial, opening the first of the two drawers as it rang.

"_Hello?" _

"Hey McGee, it's me."

She could hear the sound of his movements._ "Kate! Did you find him?"_

"Yeah. Passed out under his boat."

"_Oh God! Is…is he okay?"_

"Depends on what you call 'okay'." Her free hand rummaged through the drawer. "There were no signs of trauma, but when he came to he wasn't too steady on his legs. Not to mention he's got a pretty bad fever."

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. _"…Gibbs came down with the flu?!"_

"Looks like it. Who would've guessed, huh?" Nothing resembling aspirin in this drawer. Perhaps in the other one.

"_I thought he said he never got sick?"_

"Yeah, well, I guess there was a bug that took him up on that challenge."

There was another longer silence before McGee spoke again. _"Could… could it have anything to do with… you know… what Tony got?"_

Kate stopped in mid-motion. That thought had crossed her mind, too, somewhere in the panic. But the longer she went over it, the more she was inclined to reject that theory. "I don't think so," she reasoned out loud as she continued her search. "If it was, he would've been tested positive for the Y. Pestis, and he would've gotten sick at the same time as Tony."

"_You're right, you're right. That's a…relief."_

She smiled to herself. "Yeah, it is."

"_So you're coming back to the office now?"_

"No. He was seriously disorientated when I found him. I brought him to bed and I'm trying to get him to sleep now, but I really don't want to leave until he wakes up and I'm sure he's all there again."

"_Copy that. I'll let Director Morrow know." _There was another brief silence. _"Ehm, with half the team down, he asked me to keep him updated. Do you mind…?"_

She smirked in the speaker. "I'll keep you posted, Tim." Then she flipped her cell phone shut, cutting the connection.

For a moment she just stood there, focussing on her breathing. She had tried to sound reassuring towards the already nervous junior agent, and she hoped she'd done a better job convincing him than she'd done on herself. They'd seen Gibbs agitated, upset, tired, furious, obsessed, and on rare occasions even amused. But always in control of himself. She had absolutely no idea how to deal with _this _side of him.

Getting back to the immediate task at hand, she searched both drawers thoroughly again, but still came up empty-handed. She cursed silently, and in quick succession wondered if she could leave Gibbs alone long enough to go down to the drugstore, concluded that she had no idea where the nearest drugstore was or how long it would take her to get there and back again, and finally decided to check the rest of the basement in case he had put the aspirin elsewhere and didn't remember. There was another cabinet in the far corner. Maybe that was the one he'd been talking about.

She ran her fingers along the bare wood of the boat's ribs as she passed by. She even caught herself double checking the spot where she'd found him, just to make sure he _really_ hadn't injured himself.

"You're being paranoid, Kate," she berated herself.

The first drawer of the cabinet was pretty much like the two in the workbench: cluttered with all kinds of hand tools, different grades of sanding paper, and a lot of saw dust. The second one wasn't much better. Seeing a pattern evolving, she tried the bottom drawer next, hoping rarely-used items sank to the bottom like they did in her own cabinets.

And to be sure, there it was: a first aid kit stashed at the back of the bottom drawer. Smirking to herself, she dug it out, blew off the dust and checked the contents, which turned out to be little more than an old packet of plasters, some not-so-sterile-anymore bandages, a dried-up bottle of iodine, and indeed a half-empty strip of aspirins.

"Not used in ages. Really a marine's first aid kit, then," she said to herself as she closed the lid. But when she wanted to close the drawer, something else caught her attention. When she picked it from between the blunted chisels and broken handles, she recognised it as an award case.

It surprised her to find something like that here. Gibbs was notorious for passing up award ceremonies, and as far as she knew, Tony was the one keeping the entire – quite extensive – collection of awards in his desk. Although, on closer examination, the fact this one wasn't in the same drawer with the rest might have something to do with the acronym embossed on the cover: NIS. This case was older than the others. For a moment her integrity was stronger than her curiosity, but when her investigator's training kicked in, she opened the case. And blinked. Twice.

Inside, on the velvet lining, laid a photograph. From the grain and the quality of the colours, she guessed it was several years old. But the two people in it were still smiling as brightly as the day it was taken: a woman and a little girl. Kate tilted her head slightly. The woman, she noticed, had red hair. Knowing this fact might be more significant than she was willing to accept right now, she turned the photograph over. Maybe there was a date on it.

There was indeed writing on the back, however, it wasn't a date.

'_Thinking of you every day' _was written in the neat, slanted handwriting of a woman. A little lower, in an irregular, more childish hand, she found _'I miss you, Daddy! Love and kisses!'_. But what really got to her were the names at the bottom, where the woman's neat letters spelled: _'Love, Shannon & Kelly'_

Kate felt her stomach twist into a big knot. "Shannon? That's what…" She quickly closed the case and gently put it back where she found it, taking care to wipe it off so it looked less like someone had been touching it. Then she rammed the drawer shut.

She shouldn't have seen this, Kate concluded as she ran back up the stairs with the kit under her arm. She wasn't supposed to find out about this. She even doubted that _anyone_ was supposed to know about this! If this wasn't some sort of secret, he would have told them. He would have mentioned their names; he would have at least mentioned he had a family somewhere!

But he hadn't, ever. She thought of the heartache showing through underneath his tough exterior. Her own heart ached for the implications.

Trying to forget what she had seen, she got a glass of water from the kitchen and then went up to the second floor. With the strip of pills in one hand and the glass in the other, she quietly re-entered the bedroom.

He was a lot less restless now, she noticed. It alarmed her at first, but then she heard his steady breathing. She let her own breath out, not having realised she'd been holding it. Then she tiptoed to the bed, put the glass and the strip on the bedside table and then crouched down.

She smiled. He'd fallen asleep. Just as well, she thought. Sleep _was_ the best remedy, after all. Taking extra care not to make too much sound, she rounded the bed and pulled the free end of the quilt over him. Then she sneaked out of the room again, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could hear him if he should need her.

It wasn't until she was back in the living room that she came out of fifth gear. Seeing as she had promised him, herself and McGee she wouldn't leave until she was sure he could take care of himself, the odds were that she'd be here for at least the next few hours. That thought running through her head, she realised she had never even taken off her coat since she got here.

It took her a while to get settled. She'd been to Gibbs' house only once before, so she was mostly unfamiliar with where he kept everything. Besides, she already felt like a voyeur after what she found in the basement. No need to go digging any further in his possessions than was absolutely necessary.

The coffee machine had been easy enough. It was practically the centrepiece of the kitchen, although that was hardly a surprise. Neither was the fact it produced a drink that needed a lot of milk and sugar before tasting any less like liquid concrete. Fortunately she found enough of both to manage something potable.

Finding something to pass the time without being intrusive was a bit more difficult, though. There was no TV or radio other than those in the basement, but she wanted to stay within earshot, so going down there wasn't an option. But after half an hour of playing backgammon on her cell phone, she got fed up. Besides, the battery was running low.

She made a round of the living room and ended up staring out the back window overlooking the garden. She hated having nothing to do. It gave her too much time to think, and usually about things she didn't want to think about. And right now, the name Shannon scored very high on that list.

It wasn't that she was jealous. It's impossible to be jealous of an unknown woman with an undetermined relationship to a man who doesn't have an intimate relationship with you, no matter how often you dream that he does. Gibbs was her boss, nothing more. Okay, she also considered him a friend. A good friend even; one she'd go to great lengths for. But that was the full extend of their acquaintance. To him, she was an agent under his command, with all due professional fondness and distance. She'd do well not to mistake that sentiment for something more, she told herself. She really ought to get realistic about the improbability and impossibility of her dreams becoming anything more than imagination.

…

"Oh God, I _am_ jealous, aren't I?"

She flopped down on the couch and hid her face in her hand. Inside her head, the last few minutes of reasoning kept repeating themselves, grinding into her consciousness until they reached her heart. And then the tears came.

A morning's worth of freaking out crashed down on her, bringing two years of suppressed emotion in its wake. She had always managed herself in front of him, in front of Tony and Abby and the others, and in front of herself. She had never given heed to the rage inside when the convertible Mercedes pulled up unbidden, or when some female witness got more friendly attention than needed. All this time, Caitlin Todd had been at her best behaviour. And that had finally caught up with her.

Some time later, a noise from the next floor brought her back to the present. She listened for a moment, but when she was sure she heard movement, she quickly dried her face and got up to check it out.

She found Gibbs sitting on the edge of the bed, looking flustered and tired, but a lot more awake than an hour ago. He looked up when she came in, and seemed surprised to find her standing there.

"Kate? What're you doing here?"

For a moment she wondered if he remembered anything at all from earlier. "How's the headache?"

"Gettin' better." He made a vague gesture at the bedside table, where there was nothing left but two of the six aspirins and an empty glass.

"That's good," she said softly. "Is there anything else I can get you? Something more to drink perhaps?"

Gibbs glared up at her, squinting against the light coming in from the hallway behind her. "Why're you still here?" he inquired wearily.

Kate smiled nervously, feeling terribly self-conscious at the accusing undertone she heard in his voice. "I found you passed out and delirious," she defended herself. "I could hardly just leave you to yourself in that condition, now could I?"

There was no immediate answer. She awaited the expected bark telling her to 'get back to work', but after a long silence, the only response she got was:

"I could use some coffee."

After the initial confusion, her first reaction was to suggest something more wholesome considering his condition, but then she figured that someone who drank coffee to keep cool in the tropical temperatures of a submarine-without-air-conditioning, could stomach the stuff in any circumstance.

"Sure, no problem. Coming right up." She made to leave, but then turned back. "Look, why don't you, ehm, get into something more comfortable in the meantime?"

He shook his head, visibly regretting it as soon as he did. "I'll come down in a minute…"

"Gibbs, I don't think that's a good idea…," she began, but stopped herself. She knew him well enough to know she wouldn't be able to change his mind. So instead she walked over and collected one of the pillows and the quilt from the dishevelled bed. "To make the couch a bit more comfortable," she explained kindly as she stuffed them under her arm. "I'll have your coffee ready in a few minutes."

To her surprise she actually heard him stumble down the stairs just as the coffee machine finished pouring concrete for two. She mixed hers with the required thinners and came walking into the living room just in time to catch him slouching on the couch.

"Here you go." She handed him his mug. He accepted it without a word, and downed half of it in one go. She smiled as she sat down in the chair across the coffee table. "Better?"

"Much."

He didn't look like he was feeling much better, but she was willing to go along with that little white lie for now.

"So what happened?" she asked after a somewhat awkward silence.

Gibbs gave her a questioning look. "Happened?"

"You were lying passed out in the basement. Not exactly a typical position, especially for you."

"Ah, that…" He rubbed his forehead and took another swig from his mug. "I had a headache last night, worse than normal, but I figured it would go away after working on my boat. It usually does."

"And…?"

"And it didn't. Next thing I remember is you helping me up."

Kate sighed, staring into the mocha liquid in her mug. "Anything I should know about?"

He frowned in confusion.

"I mean, Director Morrow will want a report on why you were missing and when you'll be coming back." _Plus I'm concerned about you suddenly getting sick when you never do, but I'm too embarrassed and too shy to ask straight out what's wrong or whether I should worry, and I'm definitely not going to admit to your face that I was scared to death for you. _

But Gibbs has a sixth sense for lies and hidden meanings, and she felt herself go red when he studied her face intently.

"Nothing as serious as Tony," he finally replied, as if he had read her mind.

She fidgeted with her mug. "Are you sure?"

It was out before she caught herself. Knowing how her boss felt about being second-guessed by his junior agents, she braced herself for his reaction. But for the third time that morning, her anticipations were completely off the mark.

"Yes, I'm sure," he confirmed without a trace of venom or agitation in his voice. "You don't need to be so concerned."

So he _had_ read her mind. For some reason, though, his words didn't comfort her at all, but rather caused her emotions to rapidly slip from her grasp.

"I _don't_ need to be concerned?" she snapped at him. "I find my marine boss - who has _never_ fainted unless severely injured! - unconscious on the floor, delirious with fever and unable to stand on his legs without support. And you're telling me I _shouldn't_ be worried?!"

Visibly unsettled by her sudden outburst, he turned his face away, staring out the back window for a while. He sighed. "Yeah, I can see how that isn't much of a reassurance." He examined his mug and finished the rest of his coffee before facing her again. "I can tell what you're thinking, Kate, but if this was really something serious, the aspirin wouldn't have had any effect."

"You took twice the recommended dose!"

"Swallowing a whole strip wouldn't have helped DiNozzo!" he barked back with surprising vigour. "And he was in very real and very serious danger of dying, Kate!" The fire in his eyes died as quickly as it had risen. "True, I don't feel particularly well right now, but that's nothing compared to what Tony went through…"

She instantly felt sorry for driving her point home. For a few moments she just looked at him, seeing his anger dissolve to reveal something else entirely. "You blame yourself for what happened to him, don't you?" she said quietly.

She knew she'd struck a nerve when Gibbs turned away again, eyes wide in anguish.

"…it should've been me…" he muttered into his hand.

On instinct more than anything else she moved over to sit beside him. "Hey. That wasn't your fault. Tony was being Tony when he snatched that letter. You couldn't have known it was booby-trapped." She tried to catch his eye, but he just kept staring right past her. "Gibbs?"

"I… I keep messing up," he said at long last. "Losing Tony in an undercover op. Him nearly dying of pneumonic plague because I wasn't paying attention. Ducky nearly bleeding to death… And Ari…," he met her gaze now, his bright eyes full of fear. "That bastard got to you twice, Kate. And I couldn't even protect you…"

She bit her lip. This was the fever talking, she knew, but it made him bitterly honest. And there was no way she could keep up appearances in the face of so much fear and loneliness.

"You never let us down, Gibbs," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. "You're always there for us. Now, let me be there for you for a while."

He let himself be cradled, and it was a matter of mere minutes before he fell asleep in her arms. Kate let him, and simply enjoyed this rare opportunity to be this close to the man of her dreams. For the longest time she just held him, his head resting against her shoulder.

But the ghost of Shannon haunted her. As she sat there, holding him, she couldn't help but think about the wife and daughter he had never mentioned, never even hinted at. That photograph she found had been taken years ago, and there was no telling how long it had been since he'd last seen them. Yet given his reaction this morning, they were still very much on his mind.

Suddenly, Kate felt like an intruder. She got a very strong impression that she had no right to be in this position, on this couch. In her mind's eye she saw the smiles of the woman and child, telling her that no matter how much she wanted it, she simply had no right to invade his life like this. Oh, she could try. But the other three who had tried before her were now his ex-wives. Question was if she wanted to risk becoming number four…

As she pulled Gibbs' sleeping form just a little closer, she made up her mind. She wasn't going to tell him about what she had found out. He didn't need to know. It wouldn't only hurt him if he did.

But more importantly, she wasn't going to try and take the place of the woman who was still his one true love after all these years…

She took a deep, shaky breath and chewed her lip. Giving up is so much easier said than done. Two silent tears ran down her face as the consequences of her decision sank in. No more hoping, no more longing for the man who could never have been hers in the first place. Letting go always hurt like Hell, she knew, but she would bear it. She had to. For his sake as much as for her own.

Gathering her resolve to see this through, she leaned in closer and gently kissed his silver hair. It was a farewell-kiss, a gesture to seal her decision. Nothing more.

But then why did it feel like she was saying goodbye to him forever?

* * *

... and then 'Twilight' happened.

R&R please! I always love to hear you guys think.


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